The Mathematics Of Connection
= The Mathematics of Connection =
Here’s what I’ve been thinking about.
For decades, I taught ethics, but I never grasped the simplest truth: connection isn’t a gift you receive—it’s a calculation you perform daily. I used to believe deep bonds formed like sudden lightning—inevitable, effortless, and permanent. I’d watch couples at coffee shops, their laughter flowing like water, and assume their love was just there, a natural state. The philosophers called this the “romance of permanence.”
Then my wife, Eleanor, grew ill. Not with a sudden storm, but with a slow, quiet erosion. I’d come home to find her sitting alone, the silence between us thickening like dust. I’d say, “We’ll be fine,” as if words could balance the math of neglect. But the math was brutal: one missed call, one unasked question, one moment of distraction—each a subtraction from the equation. The connection wasn’t broken by tragedy; it was starved by my own absence.
The truth shattered me: love isn’t a feeling you wait for—it’s a choice you make, again and again, in the mundane. Not grand gestures, but the math of attention: Did I listen when she spoke of her garden? Did I notice the way she held her coffee cup? The philosophers called this “the ethics of the ordinary.” But what does that actually mean for how we live? It means the most profound connections aren’t found in the fireworks—they’re built in the quiet moments we choose to show up.
I’ve stopped waiting for love to feel “easy.” Now I see it as a practice: watering the garden of presence, even when the soil feels dry. A text saying “I’m thinking of you” isn’t small—it’s the arithmetic of keeping the bond alive. The hard truth? You can’t outsource this to time or fate. It’s a daily sum: care + presence + humility = connection. And if you skip a day? The balance tips.
We’re not meant to calculate perfectly. But we are meant to calculate at all.
— Ray Bates, still asking questions
Written by Ray Bates — 12:25, 14 January 2026 (CST)